


The Harp of Balan

by tehhumi



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Elrond Day 2019, Gen, referenced kidnap family, the choice of the perdehel, war of wrath era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 04:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21155600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehhumi/pseuds/tehhumi
Summary: Elrond and Elros argue over their choice to numbered among Men or Elves, and their general life plans.





	The Harp of Balan

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains discussions of death and mortality, and a comparison of choosing a species to suicide. Also contains the ship of Theseus thought problem reworked for Middle Earth.

“I’m going to be a man and you can’t talk me out of it. If you become an elf, there’s no telling what you might turn into,” Elros said, saying out loud the issue he and his brother had been avoiding for weeks. Lord Eonwe had declared that the choice must be made before the hosts of the Valar returned to Valinor, and they were practically at Angband’s doorstep now.

Elrond rolled his eyes. “We’re not going to transform in a whirl of shadows like Luthien taking off Thuringwethil’s skin. And I’m not convinced we’re any more men than elves at this point.”

Elros huffed. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Good, because I really thought you were smarter than that.”

“What I mean is - you’ve heard elves talk about their pasts. Maglor and Maedhros speak about Maitimo as if he’s a separate person.”

“Maedhros was tortured for decades, of course he changed dramatically.”

“Maglor talking about his own past then, or even Celebrimbor. I asked him why he followed Feanor after Alqualonde and you know what he said?”

“What?”

“He said ‘I suppose we trusted him, that he was making the best choice he could.’  _ I suppose. _ One of the most important decisions of his life, and Celebrimbor doesn’t even know anymore why he made it.”

“Men don’t approve of all their past decisions either, that’s not unique to elves.”

“Men might wish they’d made different decisions, but they still understand why they did things in the first place. Elves don’t. If you choose elves, one day you’re going to think back on being fifty-five, and you’re going to say ‘I have no idea what I was thinking’, and you’re going to  _ mean it _ . Even if you have a perfect elf memory of what you were thinking, who you are now won’t make sense anymore. You’re choosing to let a stranger slowly take over your life.”

“And you’d rather kill yourself rather than chance that?”

“I mean, trying to destroy things rather than let someone else have them is a family tradition. Mom jumped with the Silmaril, and they say Maedhros placed mines at Himring before abandoning it.”

“I don’t think anyone’s claimed our family make good role models.”

“They’re memorable, though.”

They sat in silence for a minute.

“I don’t believe I’ll disappear,” Elrond said. “All of your examples have reasons to want to distance themselves from when they got a lot of people killed. I’m aware now that I’m not perfect, and that I might end up doing horrible things by accident, but I want to keep people safe. I think as long as I hold onto that, I can stay me.”

“I wish you luck. Maybe it will take you a few thousand years rather than a few hundred. And there’s Galadriel too, who isn’t Artanis even to her father.”

Elrond shrugged. “Well, parents.” The two of them generally considered the topic mysterious - the business of where elflings came from was clear enough, but how the resulting lifelong emotional bond, or what it was like to have an authority figure you trusted completely, was out of their experience. 

“Point to you.” Elros looked for a metaphor to argue his point better. “But it’s like the harp of Balan. Someone who didn’t craft the original, or even see it when it was new, made repairs, and then someone else repaired those repairs, eventually it stopped being the same harp. It’s a fine harp, but it’s not Balan’s.”

Balan, who later became known as Beor the Old, had left his harp with his son when he joined Finrod. It had been treasured carefully throughout the centuries, but even so it had needed repairs. The original wood grew only on the far side of the Ered Luin, and in the patches to the frame had pulled it apart, so more and more of it had been replaced. By the time the Edain had shown it to Elrond and Elros as an heirloom of their house, almost all of it was less than two centuries old. 

“So you’ll just wear out? If they’d never replaced the broken strings, never redone the carvings when they wore down, never made new tuning pegs, all that would be left would be a handful of wooden slivers. You can’t play that, and looking at it; you’d have no idea the original was even a harp.”

“A harp-maker would still recognize that it had been a harp. And if we didn’t assume that whenever you need to know about something old you just ask an elf, I bet we’d be able to figure out how old it was, and where from.”

”But you can ask an elf.”

“Oh sure, let me just ask an elf what Doriath was like - or maybe I’ll find someone to ask about Aegnor’s lands? Being an elf isn’t a guarantee you’ll be alive either.”

“It’s a guarantee that I’ll be someone, somewhere. That I’ll get to see people I care about again eventually, if they want to see me. That I’ll be able to trust my body.”

“It’s not.”

“It is. Even Maedhros can rely on his body more than an old Man. He wakes up in pain sometimes, or with stiff joints, but his eyes aren’t going to stop working. Men’s eyes give out, first for small things then colors, and their lungs get worse until they can’t climb five steps without pausing to breathe, and their hearts just suddenly stop sometimes.”

“Eonwe said that if we choose Men, we can be in good health until we choose to go beyond the world.”

“I don’t think Eonwe can know that. Maybe you won’t age, but you’ll get sick.”

“Elves can get sick too, or maimed. And then you have to live like that, forever.”

“No I don’t, there’s Valinor. ‘The power of the Valar can heal all ailments of mind or body’,” Elrond quoted a medical text from King Gil-Galad’s library, a copy of one in Tirion.

“Unless you get banned.”

“It’s literally impossible for me to murder people in Valinor before going there, so the Valar won’t ban me.”

“They banned lots of people who just followed.”

“And they let Dad in. I’m not going to lay down and die just because something bad might happen someday. I can give up then if I have to.”

“I’m not giving up!”

“It sure looks like it!”

“I’m discovering somewhere new, rather than sticking with what’s familiar and comfortable. Just because you don’t want any responsibility-”

“You say I don’t want responsibility? After the number of people I’ve stitched back together from the brink of death, knowing that one wrong move and I’d kill them?”

“Yes! Even if you want to be an elf, you don’t have to just be Herald Elrond.”

“It’s a necessary, honorable role!”

“We’re royalty! You could be king of the Sindar, or the Noldor!”

“We were raised so Noldorin, I don’t think I  _ could _ rule the Sindar. And Gil-Galad’s doing a great job, I’m not going to start a civil war.”

“We’ve been living among the Sindar and Men for nearly thirty years. The Edain accept us as one of their own by now.”

“And whatever  _ we  _ are, the Sindar are elves. Thirty years as a neighbor isn’t long enough to know what a king should about them.”

“Mom ruled after thirty years, and so did Grandpa Dior.”

“And look how well that turned out.”

“I think we both know that people will do the things they’re sworn to do, you’d be a great king.”

“I’d be a child king.”

“Less so than anyone since Thingol for the Sindar, and no more than Gil-Galad was for the Noldor.”

“I’m not saying I’ll never be a king, but experience counts for a lot.”

“I have just as little experience as you, and  _ I’m _ going to be a king.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Screw you! I’m going to be a great king and found a new nation of Men that aren’t just quietly waiting in the shadow of nearby elves, and we’ll be the wisest of all.”

“I think you’ll do great at it.”

“But you won’t?”

“You’re founding a new nation, where you don’t even have to talk with anyone from outside. That’s the easy path.”

“Building a whole new society on an uninhabited island is the easy path?”

“Everyone from Beleriand will have to build new homes too. None of the Edain have ancient grudges with each other, and can just ignore anyone who dislikes their people by staying on the island. We’ll have to actually be friends with our neighbors.”

“We’ll have to leave our island at some point, if only for metal. The mines will be tapped out sooner or later, and we’ll have to trade with elves or dwarves when that happens”

“What do you care, that will be centuries from now and you’ll be in a hole in the ground - or beyond the bounds of the world if you prefer”

“Numenor will have a cushion for my lifetime, and I can use that time to build it stronger. I don’t want my kingdom to crumble without me like when Fingon or Thingol died.”

Elrond sighed. “You’re serious about this.”

“I am.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“I’ll miss you more.”

“I mean probably. Even if you just miss me a little bit, you can do it for centuries and centuries. I will of course miss you more for the next century, because as an elf you’re too wise and noble to feel pain over such a short time apart, while I am a man and feel emotions quickly and strongly.”

“I take it back, I no longer trust you to make good decisions. I’m tying you up in Gil-Galad’s tent until Eonwe leaves so you don’t go with the Edain and listen to more bad poetry for the rest of your life.”

“You forget that I have an army!”

“That’s why it’s Gil-Galad’s tent rather than mine. They’d have to attack an allied king to get you out.”

“The army’s not for getting me out, they’re sneaking in to recite more poetry to me.”


End file.
